


Why not?

by theperksofbeingabooklover



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol problems, Alternate Universe - College/University, Friendship, I swear this fic is happier than it sounds, M/M, Mention of Suicide Attempt, can we have a new tag called shitfic, friends - Freeform, mention of self harm, shitfic, where you know it's bad but you post it anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-10-21 04:44:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17636213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theperksofbeingabooklover/pseuds/theperksofbeingabooklover
Summary: "Enjolras had probably passed. He was likely to have gotten a first even without the pressure of his marks actually counting towards his final degree. Enjolras was bright, and his future was even brighter. Grantaire next to him was a rat, a toad, an unattractive, unsuccessful pest that clawed and begged at the feet of the great and powerful. God. His therapist had been so proud."Or basically, Grantaire fails his first year at uni and falls back into bad habits. Luckily, Enjolras is there to catch him.





	Why not?

Grantaire had had enough. He knew art was difficult to get into, he’d known that most artists ended up homeless wrecks without a penny to their name, but he’d thought he had at least some talent. Yes, he’d willingly admit he was far from the top of his art class, but he’d got into art school. His portfolio, apparently, was ‘excellent’. He’d had talent enough for that. So how had he fucked it up so badly since?

He hasn’t passed his first year at university and there is nothing he can do. 

£9,000 has been wasted on him. £9,000 that he’ll never be able to get back, let alone pay. His debt doing three years of this was going to be bad, but having wasted the entirety of the first? He is so completely and utterly fucked.

His alarm goes off, La Marseilles blaring from his pocket with all the fervour of pride and optimism that he lacked. So, the meeting. 7:00. Enjolras, bright and cold and marble. Enjolras had probably passed. He was likely to have gotten a first even without the pressure of his marks actually counting towards his final degree. Enjolras was bright, and his future was even brighter. Grantaire next to him, was a rat, a toad, an unattractive, unsuccessful pest that clawed and begged at the feet of the great and powerful. God. His therapist had been so proud. 

Maybe he just wouldn’t go. 

He went. He got through the door, moved towards his table at the back, hoping someone would have bought him some vodka or some other powerful substance good enough to make him forget just how fucked he was- poison perhaps? But no luck. Joly had placed a glass of water there, and it takes six litres to kill yourself with that.   
But before he could even take a sip, he was bombarded by golden curls. “Are you alright?” Enjolras’s earnest face was right in front of him. “I texted you about results but you didn’t reply” he gives a nervous grin “I was a little worried”.

And Grantaire is so utterly fucked. Because not only is Enjolras intelligent, persuasive and just way-too-gorgeous, he’s also the nicest person he knows. Everyone else had been told just how stressful results were for him. They’d been warned not to contact him but Enjolras was never one to listen. The stress was probably just an added incentive to message the resident failure of their group and give him the pity his life begged for.

It takes a minute to realise he still hasn’t replied. Enjolras looks even more nervous. He looks just minutes away from running to Combeferre (because Combeferre has the answer to everything and Combeferre definitely didn’t fail his first year at fucking university). 

“I’m fine,” he tries to reassure, “just didn’t do as well as I hoped” and it’s not really a lie but he hopes it’s just vague enough that he’ll be left alone to drink his six litres of water. It obviously doesn’t work because Enjolras is sitting down and giving him that earnest look again, blue eyes brighter than anything, and, well, he just wants to cry. 

He doesn't give anything more to Enjolras. Just drinks his water. Drinks and drinks. He kind of hopes he'll drown in it all. Once it's finished, he stands up and leaves. He doesn't look back. He can't bear to see Enjolras's face. 

A few days later, he's at rock bottom. He's drunk all the liquor in the house (none of it's his-why did he fuck up again? why did he have to be so fucking stupid?). The world is a wild blur of chairs that keep falling when he touches them and cold air that punches him every time he tries to get outside. He's looking at the mark he got. He's looking at his failure and making another dumb suicide joke when he thinks why not? Why the fuck not? He is failing, falling, tripping and sliding into an abyss that keeps swallowing him up as he drowns himself in wine. He's only thought it, the idea's only just entered his mind and suddenly he's on the balcony with wrists slit muttering about how much quicker it would be to just jump. He'd had trouble with things like this before- years ago before he had anything as bad as this to fuck up. His wrists have permanent marks from the last time he tried but he hadn't even thought about it in so long. It's when the liquor comes out that these ideas come back. That's why he's been sober since the first week of freshers, why he told Joly to always put a glass of water on his table at meetings, why he's here right now at the edge of it all thinking why not? Why not? 

It was at freshers week that he met Enjolras. The first time he'd verbalised the why, why, why, that always churned in his head. He's got vague memories of the night. Dancing badly, laughing with a whole host of people he'd never met before and never saw again, dancing again, singing karaoke, then later, alone in the bathroom staring at himself, all traces of laughter gone, his pale gaunt-looking reflection and "why not?" murmured ever more slurred as his distant reflection rocked back and forth, back and forth. Golden curls had found him and he remembers vaguely the presence of them for the rest of the night. Golden curls that still shone in the awful lighting of the toilets. "why not?" was answered every time with "because" but any answer that Enjolras had given was robbed with the hangover of the morning after. 

He'd met Enjolras again the day after with the worried man knocking at his door (always so earnest?) to make sure he was okay. He should've asked him then- "why not?" he needs that answer now. He wishes he knew what he'd said. But they'd met again and he'd sworn not to go out drinking again and despite the relapse that led him to Joly, he'd got better. He'd seen the uni therapist, he'd gone to Enjolras's stupid club and he'd got to a position in life where "why not?" could have a myriad of answers on any day. And now he's fucked it up and he can't think of a single reason why not.   
He's on the balcony with slit wrists and blood that is more full of liquor than anything else. He's here in the inevitable moment that he knew he was getting to all of his life. He's here and there is nothing stopping him. No whys, no questions or answers, just him and the edge and the world that will turn just that bit smoother without him in. 

And this is when he hears the tell-tale knock on his door that he just knows is Enjolras because he's so fucking endearing he has a signature knock. Here he's come to save Grantaire because he is the awful damsel in distress of every cliche book he ever read as a child. He's so drunk that he doesn't go to the door. He's so drunk that he doesn't even think about how this is the "why not?" he's been looking for. He's so drunk he just screams, ugly and raw into the uncaring night. And he jumps. 

But of course, Enjolras knows where the spare key is. Because Enjolras is so fucking perfect and Grantaire can't even get this right. Enjolras pulls him back with that earnest, worried expression that Grantaire hates because it reminds him of just how awful he must look to warrant such an expression. "Why not?" he asks, "why not?" as tears well up and stumble out of his eyes. 

"because you haven't seen it all yet," Enjolras tells him, "because you deserve to see it all," and there's a hand in his own when he falls asleep, the stars like lonely beacons searching for him, searching as he's lost to the dark. 

 

He wakes, blinking, into an alternate reality. The darkness seems so far away when he's welcomed by bright hospital lights. Enjolras is there because of course he is. The bright, charming angel who saved him that first night and continues to save him slumped into an uncomfortable-looking chair with an open book as a makeshift pillow. There are bags beneath his eyes and for once Grantaire realises that Enjolras is far from marble. He is flesh and bone and even more perfect for it. 

He watches him wake up, uncurling like a cat after a long nap and stretching out from the chair. He almost falls and Grantaire laughs. Enjolras's eyes snap open immediately.   
"Are you alright?" he says "and be honest because the last time you said you were fine we ended up with this"  
It takes him a minute to formulate a response. "I'm doing better" he settles on and gives a tightlipped smile of reassurance. "It's the alcohol," he says, "and my shitty art but mainly the alcohol"  
Enjolras does not seem reassured.   
"you keep asking me 'why not?', am I allowed to ask why?"  
“I never thought you cared, or well anyone,” he admits- “I thought I was the drunken sceptic in the corner of your meeting that no one wanted and no one-“ he cuts himself off, biting his lip. “You have to understand that I have a very low self-worth and despite overwhelming evidence that you do care, all of you,” he gives a nervous, almost shaky smile, “I still feel like no one wants me here.” 

A pin could drop and no one would hear. 

Enjolras with his bright, earnest eyes, and his sweet, always nervous smile, looks straight at him. Straight at Grantaire- their funny lovable sceptic- and seems to see for the first time just how awfully sad he really was. "I don't know how to convince you that I, that we all care, but know that we do," he says, "and I'm going to be very selfish here but I don't want to go to your funeral, I really want you to see all there is in this world before you decide to leave it" 

It reminds Grantaire of that final 'why not?'"did you give me the same answer the first time?" he asks, "I keep asking why not? and you're the only one who seems to answer"   
"The first time we met and you asked that question I told you that you shouldn't because I still wanted to meet you. Last night I told you it was because there's more to see. Today I'll tell you it's because you are a genuinely funny person, a brilliant artist, and I still think you have a lot to give to the world, whether you decide to share it or not." Enjolras smiles again, "perhaps tomorrow I'll say it's because you haven't finished watching that weird documentary you wouldn't shut up about last week or because your proposition to paint me still hasn't been fulfilled. There are thousands of reasons why not, and I hope one day they'll be enough"   
"I think they will," Grantaire decides, unable to shrink as he wants to in the face of such vibrant optimism from Enjolras's earnest face "one day". 

So perhaps he'd had enough of this. Enough of the alcohol and the 'why not?'s. But perhaps that just meant he was ready for more. 

 

Authors note:   
Right I'm not gonna lie to you this is awful. I'm pretty sure I messed up with tenses and the characters seem a little off but I've seen so many fics make Enjolras perfect and charming but also make him very cruel. I know that Enjolras is meant to be 'capable of being terrible' but I just thought it would be interesting to view Enjolras's charm as something to do with his unyielding love for his friends and his 'terror' only in relation to the protection of said friends.   
I'll probably edit this through for mistakes later but, yeah, this is the first time I'm publishing a fic here and I just wanted to see what the process was like. I can write a lot better normally but, hey, it's an attempt!


End file.
